The Road Less Traveled
by kaydee falls
Summary: Post-ep for Requiem, Krycek POV. Which road do you take when it's too late to turn back?


TITLE: The Road Less Traveled  
AUTHOR: kaydee falls  
CLASSIFICATION: S. Post-ep for Requiem, Krycek POV  
RATING: PG-13  
SUMMARY: Which road do you take when it's too late to turn back?  
SPOILERS: Requiem, brilliant one. That's what post-eps are for! Oh, and references to Anasazi and S.R.189  
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, just tell me  
DISCLAIMER: not mine, blah blah blah, 1013, blah blah blah. leave me alone now  
  
Feedback (preferably good, but flames are grudgingly accepted, as long as they're polite) goes to HPTFalien@aol.com. Thank ye kindly.  
  
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He claimed that he treated me as his son. The Smoking Man, that is. Actually, he claimed that he had three sons: me, Mulder, and that pasty-faced Agent Spender. Only one of us was actually his biological son, of course, but I sure haven't seen him around lately. I think Jeffrey's at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. Pretty good indication of Old Smokey's idea of kindly treatment. He's tried to kill me too, about a thousand times.  
  
I don't blame him; in his eyes, I certainly deserved it. But I respected the old man, to a degree, even if I detested doing his grunt work. Besides, I could use him, use his secrets, for a tidy personal sum. So I skipped out when I got sick of dealing with him, dodged the occasional blow, and survived. The penal colony, though, that was the last straw for me. That was it. Oh, not Hell, but pretty damn close. As close as I was gonna get in this world, anyway, and since I have no illusions about my final destination, I'd like to enjoy some degree of comfort while I still can.  
  
I don't even know how long I spent in that God-forsaken place. I spent every waking moment plotting my revenge. I knew that I would kill him, as soon as I got out. No excuses this time.  
  
But I was still too lax, in spite of myself. Marita came and told me he was dying; it was music to my ears. He would just finish himself off, and I wouldn't have to lift a finger. And when I saw him in that wheelchair, sucking smoke pathetically through a hole in his neck, I admit that I pitied him through my anger. He was pitiable. And as always, he was appealing to my better sensibilities -- a singular opportunity, he offered. I didn't believe him, didn't trust him, but couldn't refuse him. That's my problem; I can never turn down a good offer.  
  
So I went off to Oregon to do his grunt work, again. With my favorite dynamic duo Mulder and Scully two steps ahead of me, no less. As soon as I realized that ol' C.G.B. hadn't told me even a half of what I was doing, his life was over. It was as simple as that. It just clicked inside me, that although he had tried to have me killed countless times, I had never raised a hand against him. And in spite of all the times attempts had been made on his life, he had always lived. Why should I wait for him to die? With his track record? The son of a bitch would live forever.  
  
So I sold the information. As expected of me. But I'll bet he never thought I'd give it to Mulder. His eldest, most favored And the look on Spooky's face when Marita and I waltzed into his office with Skinner -- priceless. Impulsive moron. I can't believe he's kept himself alive this long. If Skinner hadn't held him back, I might have broken his face just to teach him some manners. Ah, well. Scully didn't look too pleased either, come to think of it, and she's always been the sensible one. Hostile, sure, but the fact that she shot him once instead of me has given me an eternal soft spot for that woman. Not too soft, mind you -- if it was in my best interests to kill her, I probably would.  
  
I might've expected that dratted pair to dull the edge of my victory. I actually didn't mind working with them for a change -- in my line of work, alliances are made, broken, and betrayed wherever possible. As long as I'm on top, I've never really cared much who else benefits -- or suffers. But those X-Files agents -- christ. I don't think they fully understood the value of the information I was giving them. Mulder's little technogeeks were paying closer attention than he was. Ever since my first little assignment as Mulder's partner, I've seen the looks passing between him and Red, and I thought I'd learned to ignore them. But I must've missed something in the time since I last saw them, because they've gotten a hell of a lot worse. Now, I've had my moments of passion before, my affairs -- I still remember my little fling with Marita with some fondness, the sheer pleasure of proving certain untested abilities of my prosthetic arm and seducing her up to my betrayal -- but the puppy dog thing never worked for me. It's sickening. Especially on Mulder and Scully.  
  
It was a relief to be done with them all, and know that this ridiculous alien-hunting business was out of my hands. Do I believe in aliens? Oh yes. I'm well enough acquainted with them to know better than to look for them!  
  
I was in an excellent mood as I zipped back over to s little rest home. Black, malicious glee was rooted in my chest, and delicious coolness filled my body. I'm a logical man. Nothing I do is ever heatedly, except for brief spurts of anger which are easily repressed once I punch something a few times. But normally, I'm all cold, calculating. Intelligent. It keeps me alive.  
  
I marched into C.G.B.'s room almost carelessly, Marita still tagging along nervously. Truth be told, I'd forgotten she was still there. I saw the look in the old coot's eyes -- he knew he was doomed. You know, up til that moment, I didn't know how I would kill him. I had a gun in my jacket, I could have just shot him. But he's been shot before, countless times. Countless others have tried to murder this man, and failed. But never me, and I would get the job done.  
  
Sensing that my emotions were in potential danger of becoming turbulent, my mind took over. -What should I do with him?- I thought. -Stairs,- the coldness told me. Inwardly, I smiled.  
  
Smokey said something morosely, I didn't hear what. I get the feeling that he wasn't really angry with me, just disappointed. -Too bad, old man.- His nurse was more distressed. What are you doing? she demanded.  
  
Sending the Devil back to Hell, I replied grimly. Where had that come from? -Stairs,- my brain urged.  
  
I was at the top of a flight of stairs with the wheelchair. I hesitated, I don't know why. Was that Hell, down there? Does it really exist? And, for the first time with an undercurrent of fear, is that where I'll end up, too?  
  
Maybe he sensed my inward uncertainty. As you do to Mulder and me, you do to all of mankind, Alex, he croaked.  
  
-Well, I helped Mulder, and I screwed you over,- I thought. -So much for your insight.- And I shoved the wheelchair.  
  
It crashed its way down very satisfyingly, finally coming to a rest half on top of the man who had called me his son. I followed after it, and Marita was back on my heels again. I stepped over him on my way out.  
  
And for just a moment, I felt hot, as though I had stepped too close to a furnace.  
  
As though the fires of Hell had reached up and singed my soul, claiming me as one of their own.  
  
Back in my hotel room, I just lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling for hours. I kept turning the Cancerman's last words over and over in my head. They made no sense. He had paired himself with his favorite and strongest enemy, pitting them against me. But I had helped Mulder. I had helped him. I had given him the ultimate information, the key to the Truth he had been seeking practically all his life! And killed my ultimate boss -- now what do I do?  
  
Ominously, thunder rolled outside. When I closed my eyes, I thought I could smell the acrid scent of something burning, something deep within me.  
  
-Sending the Devil back to Hell.-  
  
When I pushed the wheelchair down the stairs...who was the Devil?  
  
I didn't move from my room at all the next day. I saw no one, spoke to no one. Marita was obviously keeping herself to herself, or maybe she had left without me -- I didn't care. The sense of foreboding was too strong.  
  
Late in the evening, I picked up the phone in my room and dialed a familiar number.  
  
Obviously, I wasn't expected. The voice at the other end was almost panicky, very different from the man I knew. Scully, I'm sorry, my God-- he started.  
  
Mr. Skinner, I said calmly. Although clearly I'm not the person you so want to speak to, I would be happy to know what's troubling you.  
  
He was definitely caught off-guard, but wary. He put a little more control into his voice than he had had previously. he hissed, this is not a good time--  
  
Then make it a good time, I whispered. Carefully, I adjusted the level on my nice little Palm Pilot -- recently recovered from one of my various hidey-holes around town -- just for a moment. Enough for him to feel a momentary flash of dizziness, to remind him why it was in his best interests to please me. Now, what happened?  
  
the A.D. said shortly. He's gone. He was right in front of me, and then he wasn't. I saw...bright lights in the sky. They took him, he finished tiredly. Didn't they?  
  
My heart stopped. They had taken Mulder. A week ago, I would have laughed. Something had changed. Cancerman was right, I had condemned Mulder as surely as I had condemned him. This was, very suddenly, a problem. A terrible problem. And if they killed him, or destroyed him, it was on my shoulders. I had never felt guilt before.  
  
See to Scully, I said tersely, once I started breathing again. You and I will not have contact for some time, but don't get too confident. You're not free of me just yet. None of you are. And I hung up.  
  
I stared at the Palm Pilot for a few moments. With this, I controlled another man. I could kill him whenever I wished. The power had always given me a thrill. Now, it sickened me. Everything I did, every word I spoke, moved me a step closer to that fire and brimstone.  
  
With a final, decisive, impulsive motion, I hurled the little device out the window with all my strength. It shattered on the street below.  
  
That made me feel better. I strode out of my room to Marita's, and knocked on the door. To my slight surprise, she was still there.  
  
We're leaving, I said gruffly.   
  
She didn't question me at all, just followed quietly after me.  
  
Hours later, driving down one highway or another, she finally spoke. What's our next assignment? she asked, almost a joke. I had frightened her when I killed the Smoking Man. She had no illusion as to who was giving the assignments now.  
  
-Keep your eyes on the road,- the coldness in my brain whispered. -You're on the right road now.-  
  
I kept my eyes on the road. To find Mulder, I told her. This one might take a while. Hope you didn't have any personal engagements.  
  
Where do we start? she wondered aloud, half to herself. The stars?  
  
Well, this road, for starters, I amended. But all bets are off.  
  
She looked at me sharply. How do you benefit from this?  
  
I shrugged. Maybe I don't, I said softly. Maybe I'm already too late.  
  
I must have confused her, but she let it slide. We drove on in silence, the car's taillights glowing red on the road I was leaving behind.  
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um, yeah, done now. didja like it? again, feedback is muchly appreciated at HPTFalien@aol.com. thank ye kindly.


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